


Until it Overflows

by YoungSoon



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: A New Beginning, Angry Sex, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Getting Back Together, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Past Relationship(s), fixing realtionship, san has tattoos, seonghwa rides a bike
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:29:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22212610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YoungSoon/pseuds/YoungSoon
Summary: Fateful meetings always come unannounced and sometimes they bring along more one can handle until emotions overflow.
Relationships: Choi San/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 17
Kudos: 189





	Until it Overflows

The view before Seonghwa is not what he expected to see. He stops his bike at the curb of the sidewalk and takes off his helmet, taking a better look at the simple house in front of it. One floor with two windows facing the street on both sides of the door. Small front lawn with a single tree that looked like a cherry or plum tree in the deep twilight covering the roads. It is the type of house that will either stand through time and remain a small, green patch between growing apartment complexes, or it will be swallowed and demolished. Maybe by Seonghwa’s own construction company. This is by far not what he hoped to see when his friends swore on a bike workshop located here. 

Seonghwa unzips the leather jacket he is wearing and takes out his phone from the inner pocket. He looks at the address, not one but two of his closest bike-enthusiast friends sent and the location in navigation. This is the exact place where he is supposed to be. Plenty of highly renowned workshops ran from garages both before and after they blew up so he shouldn’t judge so fast - that’s what he is telling himself. 

He places the phone away yet doesn’t zip the jacket shut, his white t-shirt showing. The helmet is hung on one of the grips through the open face shield. He ruffles his black bangs and gets off the bike, deciding upon pushing it by hand rather than starting it up again. He follows a sign he notices with a well-drawn bike on it and an arrow guiding him to the back. Following the arrow, he rolls down the paved driveway. Without a surprise, a garage is greeting him, the door fully open.

Visually it is on par with many high-end shops he has been to. It is kept as clean as possible, the shelves and surfaces not full of clutter but rather organized with tools and spare details. What seems to be the owner's own ride stands to the side - probably one of the best looking, not obnoxious, or pretentious owner bikes he’s seen. One of the two ramps is taken by a bike of similar style, a set of bright lamps that hang on the side of the garage. A man is working on the raised bike, and he doesn’t seem to notice Seonghwa until he speaks.

“Good evening,” he greets the busy owner, and the man stops working upon hearing Seonghwa’s voice. Seonghwa can hear a tool being placed down on a metal surface before a young man emerges from behind the vehicle. His eyes first land on the mans’ face and just like the house - it’s not what he expects to see. The face before him is of someone he knows very well, someone he never thought he would never see again, and upon seeing him, he feels the most painful pull on his heart.

“I’m sorry, but we are about to close,” the man hasn’t noticed Seonghwa as he is focused on wiping his hands, but when he throws the rag to the side and looks up, he remains frozen in his place just like Seonghwa.

He has grown taller and broader, Seonghwa can note that. He remembers the man as a small, thin boy with large sparkling eyes and the cutest smile. He always had some sort of animal charm on his backpack and talked about his cat a lot, yet he listened with utmost attention to everything Seonghwa told. He brought Seonghwa coffee to the library when he studied and just silently sat beside him, playing games on his phone, keeping him company. Most clothes were baggy on his frame, which only made him more loveable, his tiny hands disappearing into the sleeves of his sweater. Like a thistle, he stuck to Seonghwa’s side, and at that point, nothing could make Seonghwa happier, but he ruined it all himself.

Now, as noted, he has grown taller. His shoulders and chest are much broader, hugged by a black t-shirt. The rolled-up sleeves of the said shirt reveal his toned arms, the left covered in black ink in patterns of flowers and leaves, playing between the empty skin and pure black in an impressive blackwork piece. The t-shirt is tucked into camo pants that end into black military boots. His hair is pitch black and a bit longer at the back while shorter at the front, pushed away from his face with a deep grey headband, revealing his now more mature features and the shining earrings in his ears. He has changed so much, but it’s definitely him.

“Hi… San,” Seonghwa finally manages to push out. He knows he has changed himself too, it has been four years after all, but his changes are not nearly as prominent, so San definitely recognizes him.

“Hello,” San replies dryly and looks at the bike next to Seonghwa rather than the man himself. “What seems to be the problem?” he asks as professionally as possible, the more approachable tone from just a minute ago completely gone.

“The breaks keep jamming up. Nothing too serious, but I rather have it taken care of as soon as possible,” he looks at his ride and then back at San.

“Put it on the ramp,” San nods towards the empty space and walks back into the garage and straight to a tool shelf. He doesn’t bother to look back while Seonghwa sets his bike in place, and even when he does turn around, he seems utterly uninterested - not in the bike but Seonghwa.

Even with the larger lamps at the full force, he still uses a smaller flashlight to look at the mechanisms in question. Seonghwa has taken a step to the side, observing how the younger man works. Whether he focused on games or studies, he never let his focus falter, and now as well, he was keeping his eyes only on the vehicle before him, looking for the possible fault in it. It creates quite the awkward silence in the garage - no music in the background, no sounds from the street, not even birds - just silence swirling around the space, carried in by the air of the late summer night. However, Seonghwa can’t take it.

“How have you been, San?” he asks and hopes the man will at least look at him, yet it’s a false hope.

“Fine,” the mechanic replies shortly and turns to his selected tools after a thorough inspection before getting his hands occupied.

“I’m glad to hear that. We kind of fell out after I graduated…” Seonghwa tries his very best to strike a casual conversation, but all his efforts are futile as a harsh, fake laugh cuts the air like a knife.

“Fell out? So that is called a ‘falling out’ by your standards? Good to finally know that,” he scoffs, and just for a second, he looks straight at Seonghwa over the seat of his bike. So many emotions are going wild in the eyes so beautiful Seonghwa can swear on his life he hasn’t seen more beautiful ones. Anger, hatred, sadness, a spark of long lost love perhaps - it all creates the craziest whirlpool in the usual star-filled eyes. Seonghwa is very close to asking San if he could look at him again when the man returns his gaze to the bike.

“Maybe I didn’t choose the best words…” Seonghwa attempts to speak once more, but he is cut short again.

“You think?” San asks sarcastically, glaring at Seonghwa from behind the bike. The eye contact is just momentary as he turns to the machinery before him. Seonghwa doesn’t try to start another conversation. He has many questions he would like to ask, so many things he is now curious about along with plenty of things he would like to confess, but he keeps his mouth shut and allows San to work. He did it before too. Kept his mouth shut and allowed the back then boy to think whatever he wants. He is obviously very good at keeping quiet at the worst possible moments.

“The break wire was getting loose, so I tightened it. I would suggest a clean up for it to run more smoothly. You can’t just hope for things to go smoothly if you put in no effort,” San is back to his professional mask, all emotions he showed before lost behind it.

“I take it for cleaning every two months,” Seonghwa objects to which San raises an eyebrow. 

“Whoever is doing it does a shit job,” he retorts and proceeds to put his tools away. “You can go now,” he adds when Seonghwa remains motionless.

“How much do I need to pay?” he walks over to the bike, quite puzzled.

“I am not going to take money for tightening a screw,” San almost looks annoyed. “You can go,” he emphasizes and very obviously turns his back to Seonghwa.

“Thanks,” the older of the two can just look at the back turned to him. He would never be able to tell it’s San from this view. Four years have changed a lot.

“Whatever,” the mechanic murmurs and pulls the headband off, his hair falling freely now. “Just one request,” he does turn for a second as Seonghwa guides the bike off the ramp. “Don’t come back,” his eyes are piercing through Seoughwa from the edge of the black bangs.

Seonghwa doesn’t reply. He quietly guides his bike out and turns towards the street. He is about to catch one last glimpse of San, but the door of the garage is closing, and all he can catch a glimpse off is the lights going off and a door shutting with a bang somewhere at the back of the space. A long sigh leaves his lips before he zips up his jacket, puts on his helmet, and gets on his bike. For a second a thought that San might have cut the breaks instead of fixing them crosses Seonghwa’s mind, but he knows San wouldn’t do that no matter how hurt he feels.

The roar of the engine shakes up the quiet back garden, and as the face shield lowers and movement begins, Seonghwa is left alone with his thoughts. For years ago, his life changed in a way his back then barely 18-year-old self couldn’t process properly. The burden of the family business was slowly being pushed on his shoulders, along with all responsibilities that came with it. The university to go to, classes to take, the diploma to get - all planned out for him from the second he graduates high school. That all came along with expectations of exam results and perfect behavior - everything had to be exceptional for the future his family envisioned to come true. And what could an 18-year-old boy do but agree to all of this? The price he paid still seems unfairly high, the price being San.

He had never loved as much as back then. His whole world, back then ridiculously small and safe until reality came crashing in, revolved around the smaller boy who fit so perfectly in his arms. San was just a year younger, but all about him seemed so child-like and pure, especially the endless stars in his eyes whenever he looked at Seonghwa. One smile from him made Seonghwa feel like the happiest person on earth. He knew he wanted San by his side for as long as he was breathing, but his resolution disappeared in a split second. The reality outside of their fairytale, where Seonghwa snuck into San’s room in the middle of the night to hold him even closer, to have him all for himself and be his in return, the harsh reality took it all away.

He cut everyone and everything off. His friends, his extracurricular activities, and San. In the most ridiculous way, he had imagined that just instantly distancing himself from the boy - not replying to his messages, walking past him in the hallways, leaving when he entered the library to bring Seonghwa coffee as he always did - would be the best option. He thought he was doing himself and San a favor by just ending it fast, with no unnecessary words or anything that would hinder Seonghwa’s determination to make his family proud. The pained look on San’s face when Seonghwa pushed away his hug was now forever engraved in his memory along with the tears flowing over the face he loved so much when he most cold-hearted way told him to stop trying.

He doesn’t realize where he is going until he stops at the top on the hillock at the edge of the city. This spot doesn’t have a remarkable view or anything to see but an uneven, shallow valley where the old part of the city is located. Yet this is the spot that makes his heart shrivel in his chest. He confessed to San here; this is where they shared their first kiss. As if it happened today, he remembers how San shook in his arms. He missed the feeling of holding him more than anything. How differently would he fit in his embrace now, but maybe the feeling would still be the same. Seonghwa knew this all along - all these years - but this unexpected once more proved how much he missed San.

He stops at the view point, even if there isn’t much of a view, and gets off his bike. The helmet comes off and lands on the seat before he walks to the edge with large strides, stopping only when his thighs hit the shaky wooden rail. Seonghwa inhales deeply, feeling his lungs with the fresh air of the night, before letting out the loudest scream. His hands grip on the rail as he lets his voice ring through the air. He couldn’t open his mouth four years ago, he couldn’t do it tonight, and it felt as if he would suffocate if he wouldn’t do anything. 

Slowly he steps back from the edge and closes his eyes. Just for a second, the silence of this night swallows him up, and he can breathe freely. A rustling behind nearby bushes snaps him out of it. His head turns to the side where the noise came from, and he can see a shadow in a helmet moving. “Hey!” he calls out and makes his way to where he saw the movement going from walking to running as soon as he hears a bike starting. Yet he is too slow, and he reaches the spot where he saw the movement it’s empty, the red back lights of a bike disappearing around the corner of the road. 

“San?” he breathes out, and even though he knows it is a very far fetched speculation, he can’t explain it any other way. Who else could have it been? Who else would speed off like that?

“It has to be him,” he murmurs and rushes back to his bike. In a bit of a scramble, he gets his helmet on and gets on the bike as he has to be fast, but he can’t be reckless. He assumes he knows the way back well enough and heads from where he came. He can’t be quiet anymore. Meeting San again tonight is nothing less than a sign that it's enough to suffer and time to act.

Seonghwa is not sure how long does it take to get back to San’s house, but he pulls straight into the driveway that leads to the garage. The doors are closing once more, and he doesn’t have the time to take off his helmet as he jumps off the bike and manages to get in the last second before it would be too late without crawling. 

“What the hell are you doing?” San asks, sounding angry for obvious reasons. His bike has moved, his helmet on its seat, gloves on his hands. It was him. Seonghwa does not doubt it, but he is determined not to stay quiet.

Seonghwa pulls off his helmet and looks straight at San, who is staring back at him. He is a co-CEO of a company, but suddenly, making decisions and speaking is the thing he cannot do. “It was you at the view point, wasn't it?” he asks, and there is an obvious shift of emotions on San’s face.

“Why do you care?” the reply is blunt, and San attempts to sound could, but his voice shakes just the tiniest bit, betraying the ocean of emotions in him.

“Because… Because…” Seonghwa tries to push the disobedient words over his lips, but nothing seems to come out. He feels like he is 18 again and standing in front of his parents, letting what truly matters to slip through his fingers with every second, he remains quiet. 

“Just get out,” San shakes his head and is about to open the garage door, but suddenly, Seonghwa has the guts to at least push on sentence out.

“I’m sorry!” he almost yells, and for a second, San is taken aback until he laughs, yet the joyful ring Seonghwa remembers is gone and replaced with brooding sarcasm.

“Sorry? For what exactly?” he says as his forced smile falls. “Or do I need to make a list so you could choose what exactly you feel sorry about?” his voice is cold and harsh, and Seonghwa feels mute. He has what to say, but he just can’t seem to get it out.

“Are you sorry for destroying, not just breaking, but destroying my heart? Or are you sorry that you gave no explanation on why you did it?” San’s voice gradually becomes louder and louder. “Perhaps, you are sorry that you played me for so long just to toss me away so easily? Or maybe you are sorry you ruined whatever self-confidence I had gained?” his eyes are on fire from the raw, unfiltered emotions as he walks closer to Seonghwa. “Or, just maybe, you are sorry that I was left in that damned school for another year, daily dealing with speculations and guesses what the hell is wrong with me for you to dump me?” he is barely a step away, and Seonghwa can feel his own hands shaking.

“You know what I think you are sorry about? Truly?” he takes the needed step closer, right into Seonghwa’s personal space. He looks up, meeting Seonghwa’s probably terrified eyes. “You’re sorry you even had and have to deal with all this.” 

“Wrong,” Seonghwa starts quietly, and half intrigued, half surprised Seonghwa has responded San takes half a step back. “You are wrong because it’s not just one thing I am sorry about,” it feels like finally, after all this time he can speak freely and stop being a coward.

“I am sorry about everything you said and so much more. You won’t believe me when I say that there hasn’t been a day when I haven’t regretted letting you go, no, chasing you away, but it’s true. You know my family, you know their standards, and I just blindly followed them, only later on realizing I have done the most idiotic thing in my entire life,” Seonghwa has finally found his courage, and now he feels like he can’t stop. “Hurting you… I don’t understand how I could have been so okay with it when you were my everything,” he says, and San snorts at the comment, obviously not believing it.

“I am so, so sorry, San, there are no right words to say especially so suddenly, but I mean it,” Seonghwa tries to emphasize, but he is sure very little is getting through to San.

“And? What do you expect me to do? To say I still love you, run into your arms, and cry in unison while accepting this half-assed apology just because you are guilt-tripping upon seeing me? I don’t know what k-drama are you living in, but I am not from it,” San turns around to try once more and open the door and let Seonghwa out.

“I do still love you,” Seoghwa blurts out. It is the most ridiculous confession at any given moment, especially after four years of no contact, but he has stopped lying; he has stopped being quiet. “And, I am truly sorry.” 

“And now you will say this meeting is fate or some shit,” he scoffs and turns back to Seonghwa, crossing his arms on his chest. “You can straight up choke on that,” he adds, but for some reason, he is still here; he is no longer moving for the door remote, nor is he walking away. Instead, he continues.

“How can you even say you still love me if you know nothing about me now? Where have I been these years, what I have done, what I have been through? You are in love with a memory of a naive child who believed in you, and I am no longer that child, Seonghwa,” he finally says Seonghwa’s name, but it sounds so unnaturally cold and forced it sends a shiver through Seognhwa’s spine.

“Then let me…” Seongwha tries to speak, but he can’t even finish a sentence before San stops him.

“Let you know me? Stop with these scripted lines. I don’t care for them,” he brushes off Seonghwa's attempt, but the latter is not giving up. He tightens the grip on his helmet, and despite the harsh decline from San, he continues.

“I do believe that meeting you again today is fate and that it is fate we both went to the viewpoint. You can say these are all cliche lines, that I don’t mean it when I am sorry and deny every word I say, but I am not going to stop,” his breathing speeds up as his voice gets louder just like San’s did before. “I have detested myself for all this time. Mostly my inability to speak up and say what I want, so I am not going to hold back. Whether you like it or not,” he continues, and San just seems to get angrier and angrier by the second. “This must be the right time for us to meet again, regardless of you not believing it.” 

For Seonghwa’s shock, San suddenly marches forward and grabs fistfuls of Seonghwa’s jacket. “Can’t you just shut up and leave?” he utters through clenched teeth while his eyes are lost, pleading and almost scared from what Seonghwa will do. He has changed during these years, but deep inside, he is still the same - not a naive child as he called himself but a loving boy.

“I am not going to do either of those things until you hear exactly what I am saying,” Seonghwa replies, and what he doesn’t is for San to utter ‘asshole’ under his breath and press their lips together.

There is nothing gentle, romantic, or sweet about the kiss they share. It’s a fight of dominance - more teeth and tongue than lips -, and it is an absolute mess, but neither seems to want to stop. Seonghwa drops his helmet to get a firm grip on San’s waist with both of his hands while San just tightens his hold on Seonghwa’s jacket. Nothing feels like it has ever felt before and Seonghwa is both excited and scared at the same time as this is truly not the San he knew but not in a bad way, at least that’s what he thinks for now.

They break the kiss when the need for proper inhale is too apparent, their foreheads resting together as they breathe for air. “You can’t even imagine how much I have hated myself at first, thinking I was not good enough. How much I hated you for doing that to me,” San breathes heavily against Seonghwa’s lips. “How angry just the thought of you made me for what seemed like an eternity,” he utters, and his eyes lock with Seonghwa’s. “But as a curse, I have never moved forward completely. What kind of damned spell have you cast on me, huh?” 

“I could ask the same thing,” Seonghwa breathes out before being the one who restarts the kiss. It’s still rough - a fight over complete control which Seonghwa is losing. He feels like he is the one shaking in San’s arms, unable to take the new power San has attained and falling apart because of it. He hasn’t fallen apart for such a long time; it almost feels like being free again.

“Damn it,” San’s voice is deep, coming from his chest as he curses in the next breather. His eyes are burning with the same mixture of emotions they did earlier when they met again. “Don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs and averts his eyes from Seonghwa’s stare, who is nothing less but fascinated by this shift, by the crumbling feeling at the pit of his stomach and racing in his chest.

“I can’t seem to look at you any other way,” he replies even though he doesn’t need to.

“You have gotten so much more annoying,” San points out, and he almost sounds playful before pulling Seonghwa into another kiss. This time he takes full control of it, and Seonghwa can just let out small noises and grunts. He doesn’t dare to protest when San stops the kiss, grabs his hand, and drags him to the back of the garage. He takes them through the door that leads into the house and straight through a hallway, through a room that seems like a kitchen in the absolute darkness. They stop only in a space Seonghwa can guess is a living room, light coming in from a street lamp outside illuminating it enough to show outlines of furniture. He doesn’t have time to marvel at the interior as he pushed down on a sofa - back first - and San is above him in seconds.

“A lot has changed. Take it how it is or leave. This time seriously,” he speaks in a low voice, light reflecting in his eyes and creating the stars Seonghwa has missed so much.

“So all other times were not serious?” he smiles and there is this frown on San’s face he knows so well. “I already said I am not going anywhere,” he replies even though he has very little understanding of what could San’s words imply. His determination to stay, to use this fateful meeting, is stronger than uncertainty, and he is willing to do anything at this point. Little does he know where that will take him.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed, and he doesn’t care a single bit. Seonghwa is almost bent over the backrest of the sofa, his knees sinking into the cushions. He’s hugging the backrest with all his strength, his nails digging into the upholstery as his voice bounces around the walls, his whole body at San’s mercy, and he seems to have none. The only calm moment seemed to be when those were only the younger man’s fingers stretching Seonghwa open, strange gentleness appearing in his now rough demeanor, but not for long. 

It feels as if all of the emotions San has held in for all of this time are overflowing, and Seonghwa is there to catch them all. They did exist because of him, of his actions, or rather lack of those. But he loves every second of this more than he would have ever imagined. Each thrust he feels hitting deep into him, how firmly San’s grabs onto his ass, spreading him open to the point of probably leaving marks - he loves all of it. Even the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin, the wildly erotic growls both of them let out filling the air - perfect isn’t a word strong enough to describe it.

The most undignified whine like moan comes from Seonghwa’s lips when San slips out of him. He feels like a puppet in the smaller man’s hands and allows himself to be pushed down on the sofa, his sweaty back meeting the seat. He can just peer up, breathing heavy, at San, who looks down at him with so many emotions written all over his face Seonghwa can’t pinpoint just one. All he is capable of is absentmindedly smile at the man above him and reach his hands up, smoothing the drenched strands of hair away from his face before resting both of his hands on San’s face. The man’s expression changes instantly.

The still bubbling anger and hatred he has stored melts away, and for just a moment, Seonghwa sees the same San he knows so well above him. He looks a bit lost, the whole universe sparkling in his eyes as he looks at the older man, his features relaxing, lips forming a soft pout, eyebrows knitting together. 

“Even behind all this… it’s still you,” Seonghwa manages to breathe out even though it is hard to do so and just for a moment longer keeps his hands on San’s cheeks.

“Will you ever shut up?” he says in the smallest voice he has used this night and moves forward, out of Seonghwa’s hands, but straight to kiss him. The kiss is still quite dominant, and it makes one hard to breathe, but it feels more heartfelt. 

Seonghwa’s breath gets caught in his chest once more when San slips back into him, finishing driving both of them to the edge. There still is this overflowing, bottled up energy coming from San, and each thrust sends shivers through Seonghwa’s entire being until the very last second when he can’t take it anymore. There is no dignity left as he chants San’s name from the depth of his chest, his voice breaking, mixing with curses falling from San’s lips to the point when the whole room falls silent for a moment before both of them resume breathing.

As much as the sofa allows, San flops down next to Seonghwa, his left leg resting on the floor while his right settles between Seonghwa’s, who has managed to roll on his side. They do not say a thing, both still breathing heavily. Seonghwa’s hand slowly moves to get San’s wild hair into some sort of order, but for his surprise, San takes his hand and places it on his cheek. The older doesn’t question it one bit and keeps it there, his thumb gently running over the high cheekbone. Even when he lays down more comfortably, he keeps his hand there and it seems like it is exactly what San wants as he lets his eyes slowly flutter shut. Seonghwa follows soon after, his eyelids heavy, his hand falling to San’s shoulder as he falls asleep.

What awakens Seonghwa is the emptiness next to him and footsteps in the room. He opens his eyes slowly - the room still dark, illuminated only by the lampost. A blanket has appeared on top of him, a pillow under his head, yet San is not sleeping next to him. Instead, he is sitting on the edge of the sofa a bit further away from Seonghwa’s head. From Seonghwas’s sleepy eyes can tell he has his underwear back on and has something that looks like a beer bottle in his hands, looking at nothing in front of him.

Even as a teen, he used to wake up in the middle of the night, seemingly from nothing. When they spent the nights separately, he would send Seonghwa small, cute messages until he fell asleep. When together, his best remedy was to snuggle closer to Seonghwa and just wait until sleep would win over him again. Now it is, obviously, different.

Slowly, Seonghwa sits up a long-forgotten sting in his lower back, making him wince, but it is not bad enough to let out any sounds. He scoots over until he is behind San and doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around the younger man’s middle and rest his chin on San’s shoulder.

“Does the beer help?” he asks, his voice coming out a bit too raspy, and he can feel San’s body twitch with a held back laugh.

“A bit,” he admits and takes another sip from the bottle. He offers it over his shoulder, and Seonghwa doesn’t shy away from taking a sip even if it means to let go of San for a moment. It’s quite bitter, not the type he usually drinks, but it is quite refreshing.

“I haven’t forgiven you. And I can't say I love you like I used to,” San suddenly speaks as he takes the bottle back from Seonghwa.

“I know,” Seonghwa wraps his arms tightly around San's waist again and returning his head to where it was before.

“I'm still angry…” San adds, looking at his hands.

“I know,” the older man nods.

“I still hate you... A little,” there is almost an audible pout in San’s voice, and Seonghwa can’t help but smile.

“I know... And I deserve it,” he admits with a sigh.

“But. Dear God, how I have missed you,” San places his hand on top of Hwa's, squeezing them tightly. “You can’t even imagine how much I have missed you all this time.”

“I missed you too. So, so much,” Seonghwa lets out a shaky breath. He knows he might be holding San a bit too tightly, but it doesn’t seem like the other man minds. Instead, San turns his head towards Seonghwa. Their eyes meet over his shoulder, and it takes just a moment for their lips to melt together in probably the first sweet and calm kiss of the night. So many emotions are pouring into a simple lip lock. They both shiver.

San places the bottle on the floor and turns around, breaking the contact as little as possible. With little to no pressure, he is above Seonghwa again, yet this time everything is moving like a smoothly oiled machine as if they have done this a hundred times. Seonghwa’s hands gently settle on the back of San’s head, fingers gently threading through his hair as they kiss without a rush.

“A suggestion,” the older man murmurs against San’s lips. “We try the tested remedy for sleeplessness, and then, in the morning, we talk. About everything,” he earns a borderline pouty look from San, but there are no protests. With a bit of a frown, the younger man lays down, his head finding its spot on Seonghwa’s chest, and the latter lets out a shaky breath, a smile blooming on his face. He wraps his arms tightly around San like he used to, one of them settling on the back of his head, and he can swear he shivers when San wraps his arms around Seonghwa.

“If you will quote k-dramas in the morning, I will kick you out,” San murmurs as he snuggles closer, old instincts taking over. 

“That’s a deal,” Seonghwa smiles and gently pets San’s head, falling into a trance of his own. This is and isn’t like it used to be before. The man sleeping in his arms is and isn’t the same San and, honestly, he is and isn’t the same Seounghwa as well. But this - them - has all the potential to become even better than before. 


End file.
